


we sing it proudly

by aceofdiamonds



Series: baby we're the new romantics // piperbeth neighbours au [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, This is ridiculous, i have a series planned i think, it's pre relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:05:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2767487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofdiamonds/pseuds/aceofdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s lucky, Annabeth has come to find, that she’s a fan of Taylor Swift as it seems her neighbour is too. And normally she would enjoy it but right now it’s hard enough to memorise these facts and diagrams without the constant urge to sing along to whatever CD is playing through the wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we sing it proudly

**Author's Note:**

> i’m studying for my exams and the only person playing taylor swift loudly is me as i cry with despair and sing long live at the top of my voice. i want a piper mclean. title is from new romantics

 

 

Annabeth tips her head onto her hand, skating her other hand across the papers that litter her desk. Four more days. She can do this.

She picks up her textbook, flipping through the pages until she reaches her notes on the human digestive system. As she reaches for her highlighter the familiar sound builds up from the apartment next to hers.

The new neighbour moved in a couple of weeks ago with a lot of laughing in the hallway and the sound of a small explosion that Annabeth had decidedly ignored. She hasn’t met her next door neighbour yet but she has gotten know her music taste through a combination of thin walls and loud stereos.

It’s lucky, Annabeth has come to find, that she’s a fan of Taylor Swift as it seems her neighbour is too. And normally she would enjoy it but right now it’s hard enough to memorise these facts and diagrams without the constant urge to sing along to whatever CD is playing through the wall.

Halfway through _1989_ she gives up; steeling herself for the possible backlash that will follow, she leaves her door on the latch and takes a few steps to number 34, knocking before she can talk herself out of it.

"Oh. Hi." The girl who opens the door is shorter than Annabeth by a couple of inches with her hair piled on top of her head in a haphazard bun. There’s mascara flecks around her eyes like maybe she’s been up for longer than she should, rubbing her eyes from tiredness, and when she smiles, friendly, Annabeth mirrors her automatically.   
  
"Hi. It was just to say -- um." She lifts a hand to the back of her neck, leans against the door jamb. "The walls are really thin?"  
  
The girl flushes, realisation dawning.   
  
"And you're singing Taylor Swift really loudly? Don't get me wrong she's a great artist, her songs are totally made for screaming along to -- but I have exams --"  
  
"Oh, god, I am so sorry," she moans, her hand pushing against her mouth. Her eyes are wide. "I am _mortified_."   
  
Annabeth laughs, feeling awful and trying to make the most out of the situation. "Hey, don't be. Your voice is great.” That’s probably the best bit about the whole thing, hearing the singing that goes along with the music. It’s off-beat and loud and full of complete enjoyment. God, Annabeth must seem like such a bitch.

But the girl is laughing, “Like you could hear it over this,” and she jerks her head towards the chorus of _I Know Places_ filling the apartment behind her. “I get carried away.”

“It’s a great album,” Annabeth agrees. “Playing it at anything less than this volume is really inexcusable.”

“Right? I love her country stuff but she pulled off this transition to pop _so well_. I was wary about _Shake It Off_ but god, it’s a grower, isn’t it? Or maybe it's just that she can do no wrong in my eyes.”

Discussing Taylor Swift’s discography is not how Annabeth saw her evening going but she’s enjoying it all the same. It might be something to do with how willing her neighbour is to chat to her despite her just asking her to be quiet, in the most polite way she could, of course. “It’s nice to meet you,” she says quickly, “Sorry for the awful first impression.”

“It’s completely understandable, don’t worry about it. I’m Piper, by the way,” and she holds out a hand.

“Annabeth,” she replies, taking it. There’s a tattoo on the inside of Piper’s wrist, too small to make out. “How are you settling in? I’ve been meaning to introduce myself it’s just  --”

“No I should have come to you, at the very least to apologise for the noise. You’ll be filing my eviction notice tomorrow, I bet.”

There’s something in her stomach, something similar to exam nerves but infinitely better, making Annabeth feel giddy. She smiles, glancing down at Piper’s fingers twisting in the hem of her t-shirt, meeting her eye when she looks up again. This is something Annabeth is going to pick apart later when she’s back in her own apartment but right now all she does is shake her head and insist that no, it’s not a problem.

“Once you’re finished your exams come over and dance to T-Swift with me, okay? Jason never gets into it enough and Leo doesn’t like her old stuff, which is her origin, you know? How do you pass over _Picture to Burn_? Annabeth, how can you possibly dislike _I’m Only Me When I’m With You_?”

Annabeth laughs into her hand, slipping a little where she’s leaning against the door jamb. “A travesty.”

“See,” Piper exclaims, eyes sparkling, “you get it! I’ll let you get back to studying, sorry again for disturbing you, seriously, next time just bang on the wall, I’ll get the hint.”

Banging on the wall would mean not seeing Piper in person which is something Annabeth thinks she would like. “I’ll do that, and thank you. I promise I’m not usually this mean.”

Piper waves her hand in what Annabeth interprets as a _don’t worry about it_ gesture. Percy uses vague hand movements to get across his meaning -- Annabeth is fluent.

“See you soon, Annabeth,” Piper says, stepping back from the door. Her leggings are checked, her top dipping to her thighs. Annabeth notes that they match almost, her leggings blue and her jumper too big.

“Bye, Piper.”

When she gets back into her own apartment the difference in noise is staggering -- these walls are _so_ thin -- and Annabeth closes her eyes, taking a second to think the last few minutes over. She comes to the conclusion that it’s very possible she has a crush on her new neighbour Piper.

Taylor Swift and her songs of daydreams and hearts beating fast in her chest becomes all the more relevant to Annabeth’s life.

 

 


End file.
